Don't Look Back
by Rose and Thorn
Summary: Don't laugh. They'll hear the quiver in your voice. Don't cry. Tears are a sign of weakness. Don't move. They'll see you're not unconscious. A look at pre-Narnia Edmund, through his point of view.


**AN:** I have no idea what possessed me to write this. The angle, the point of view - everything - is different to what I normally write. It's also extremely gloomy. I enjoyed writing it, however, and would love some feedback.

On that note, please review! If you like it, review. If you hate it, review. I really don't care as long as I know your opinion.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. All Lewis'.

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Don't laugh. They'll hear the quiver in your voice. Don't cry. Tears are a sign of weakness. Don't move. They'll see you're not unconscious.

When they're pounding your head into the ground and smiling at the tears in your eyes, don't look up. Don't let them see the fear your trying so hard to hide.

When your head hurts and your limbs ache and Peter, the golden child, asks you what's wrong, don't answer. You'll never be able to verbalize the hate you feel for him, the boy who none dare to challenge, for jealousy is not a pretty word.

When they punch your nose and kick your ribs, don't cry out. Don't let them hear the sound they want to hear. Don't give them that satisfaction. Grit your teeth and smile, blink your eyes 'til the tears run dry, but don't let them ever know that you're in pain. They'll only laugh at your misery.

When you hear the taunts and jeers, lower your head - shut your ears. They want to see you writhe, to snivel and sob. They want to know that they've pierced your defences. That you're not so tough, after all.

When you feel the sting of the cane on your legs and hand, don't wince. Your tormentor likes to see you cringe. He likes to hurt you. He likes to make you feel worthless; that you deserve it all - and more.

When your Mother looks at you with concern-filled eyes, ignore her. She doesn't care - not really. She's interested in Peter, Susan, Lucy, not you. If she cared she would have stopped the teasing - stopped the bullies. She would have taken you out of that horrid boarding school. She would have heard you crying into your sheets at night. She would have done _something_.

When Peter slaps you over the head and tells you to stop hurting Mum, to stop hurting him, Susan and Lucy, glare at him. Tell him to get off his high horse. To stop being the hero. For you know that he doesn't care - that he never cared. He could have stopped the bullies. He could have helped you - stood up for you. But Peter hates you. He hates you for the beast you are, and always will be. He hates you for what you've become.

When Susan crosses her arms and snaps at your sarcastic retort, smirk at her. Stupid Susan, always trying to be Mum. Always telling you to put on your raincoat, to eat your vegetables, to brush your teeth. Always trying to help, and never actually helping. She used to help you when you were little, remember? When you couldn't do things for yourself. Well, you're not little any longer, and you hate Susan for not realising it. Stupid Susan.

When Lucy's eyes fill with tears, scowl at her. Tell her to stop being a baby. Tell her to mind her own business. Tell her to leave you alone. Her eyes can trick Peter, but they won't fool you. You know that she's a manipulative child. You know she just wants her own way. You know she always gets her own way. But you, you're smart. You'll never fall for those tearful blue eyes and quivering lips. You'll never be taken in, like Peter.

When the bombs come and Peter's pulling you into the shelter, run back for Dad's picture. Run back for the image of the only one who understood. The only one who listened. But Dad's gone now, and he may never return. He may have died on that battlefield - for God and country. Ignore the lump in your throat.

When you're standing on that train station, about to leave the only home you've ever known, allow yourself a bitter smile. Peter, Susan and Lucy are keeping up a brave face. The fools. Misery is all around you - it's inescapable. Why pretend it doesn't exist? You don't want to go live with that old professor in that old house, but are you complaining?

When the train arrives, clamber on without a word. Ignore Susan's clucking and Lucy's tears. Ignore Peter's grasp upon your sleeve and the threats he's muttering in your ear. Ignore them all. They don't love you. Why should you love them?

Don't look back. Don't smile. Don't cry. It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore.


End file.
